Etala is useless. Kochinski is thinking about next year’s election. The cabinet has shifted into election preparations. The last thing they wish to do is rock the boat at this point. The Foudre blueprints are a task that would require a year’s worth of preparation or the recovery of a wreckage. Even if those planes flew through our skies, the shooting down of one would be borderline impossible. The man tasked with stealing a plane has been arrested and I am not going to risk a paper trail in the form of bribery.

The problem, which began difficult enough, has been scaled into a mountain. And it is a mountain I have to climb in the few days I have left. Kavaa and Arascus were merely playing around in Anver before. The threats of strike from both the Doctor’s and the Nurses Unions are falling on deaf ears at best, although open hostility and ridicule at inability to adapt are more common. Imperial Clerics are effectively taking over frontline position in UNN hospitals and are met with applause when they do it. The entire UNN health sector is collapsing, hospitals are already bankrupting and being nationalized into the UNN government. And yet this is a mere speedbump, Anver Health officially announced that all Wave Victims have been healed and that they are returning to normal operations and an update to their pricing model. Medical fees have become a thing of the past in Anver, now they operate on a flat fee of a dozen Union Dollars per a minute of Cleric’s time. These men take twenty minutes to unbind a man from a wheelchair. They cure blindness in ten. Disease are expunged in a minute. An allergy is just as easy. Administrative costs are nonexistent in comparison to the old model, a single Cleric puts a dozen people out of a job. From transportation to pharmaceutical to production.

It is said that the memory of a man is a fickle thing, yet it stands as a monument of carved stone when compared to the memory of a Nation. Yesterday, we had the first demonstration about the facilitation of transport to men who wish to volunteer in the Imperial Foreign Legion. Today, I have just been made aware about technology exchanges and the facilitation of an arms industry in the UNN.

I am watching this bastion of freedom slowly walk itself into Arascus’ pen as if it were a sheep ready for slaughter. The God has to be eliminated.

Another play from his book has to be stolen: What one cannot do themselves, then they turn to the closest around them. Family.

- Excerpt from Goddess Ciria’s, of Civilization’s, Diary. Burned shortly after writing.

Iliyal readjusted his cap with a heavy sigh and pulled up the coat. Rarely would he take such a job, Arascus was more qualified for it. Malam was more qualified for it. Helenna was more qualified for it. Goddess Kassandora was more qualified for it. But the first and the last in that list weren’t available and the reputations of the middle cohort would make it too difficult. Fortia and Maisara would sense there was something going on if it was them too and they would take it as an insult to meet with just some official. Iliyal himself sensed there was something going on, although Malam had not told him the exact details: Fortia and Maisara were to move to Khmet, find whatever reasoning we need to convince them to do it.

On the short plane flight here, Iliyal had thought of his reasons as he had scheduled more of Epa’s mobilization. The plans were set though, he was the Emperor’s Hand first and foremost, but he was also the Grand Marshal of Epa, and he doubted that even Arascus would try to get him to pretend that he enjoyed the latter position over the former.

The travel time hadn’t been too large a hit to the schedule, Arcadia also needed to be personally inspected and that was half-an-hour’s flight from this place. He looked up at the castle that Fortia had moved her entire army to: Eriniskastro. Ancient apparently, older than Iliyal. A small square castle sat on top of a mountain. Walls extended from seemingly random points, terraces that were places for troops with no entrance to them save for the tunnels in the cliffs were there. Iliyal knew about it, inside was a maze. Even Malam’s trickery had not managed to get the full blueprints during the Great War and it had served as a headache for this entire region. Any siege on Arcadia had needed to take Eriniskastro into account, and any siege on Eriniskastro needed to take Arcadia into account.

So they had stood together, so they still stood. Not together any longer apparently. Arcadia had fashioned a hard border for itself out of training fields, although of all the places to sneak into, Arcadia would be the last on Iliyal’s list. But they were mages and mages were auxiliary troops, a defence that relied primarily on them would need temporary promotions of rank and so on. Iliyal knew how mages fought, the subject didn’t have to be beaten to death.

A message had been sent to Fortia, Helenna still had the woman’s number and they had asked for everything to be short. Iliyal stared up at the first gatehouse. It was a short, squat thing with rounded towers. Little more than that. Obviously even Fortia was not letting technology fall past her. The guardians, in their golden armour, stood with pike and shield and some new style of rifle produced here. Maisara’s Paladins were amongst them too. And even though Eriniskastro was every bit huge to make up for its lack of grandiosity, there was still two camps of tents. Maisara’s Paladins arranged in their perfect rows, Fortia’s Guardians in a looser, but still organised pattern.

Iliyal hoped that they weren’t going to make him march up through the countless gatehouses on that narrow road which circled around the hill to the fortress’ entrance at its zenith. Tiring it would not be, but a two trek it could. Whatever. The general approached the first gatehouse were men of the gold were already waiting for him. They were sizing up his own guards. A whole two dozen Imperial soldiers in clean black uniforms. Emperor’s Guard, they came with blade and rifle and sidearm on their belt. Clean-shaven, although everyone had to be.

Iliyal came to a stop as the captain from the line of Guardians stepped forwards. A short ceremonial cape of bronze on him, a sword on his hip and a pistol on his belt. No shield, nor the pike that the Guardians usually wielded. And the badge of rank had not changed. Iliyal greeted him in the way he would greet any other dignitary. He kept his back straight and extended his arm forward. “Greeting to Iliyal Tremali.” The man said. No name given.

So the standard reply they used amongst themselves. “Let us hope for peace.” Iliyal replied and saw the man’s green eyes widen with surprise.

“To peace.” The two men shook.

“I can leave the guards outside.” Iliyal said. “It will be faster to go up the hill in a smaller party.”

“No need.” The Captain replied. “We have heard you will be arriving, Goddess Fortia and Goddess Maisara are already in the embassy.”

“You have my gratitude.” Iliyal said and held up his hand in a tight fist. A signal for the Emperor’s Guard to stop. “I will leave them as a sign of hospitality.” Neither Maisara nor Fortia enjoyed talking with an audience. Especially not an audience of foreign soldiers.

“Very well.” The Captain said. “We would have not disarmed then anyway.” No. Of course they wouldn’t. There were two Goddesses here and a fortress spirit. Disarming guests would be an insult to the hosts. “They are in the first embassy.”

Iliyal thought he knew were that was. What had changed were small radars fixed on tall towers but the walls were as he remembered them. The stone had changed somewhat; the stone was brighter, although Iliyal had never been one to care about details like that. One steel portcullis. Another. A third. Iliyal didn’t even the bother to hide the fact he was looking around in curiosity. Guards watched him through small slits. Too many pairs of eyes. Fortresses even in times of war were staffed to full capacity unless under siege: Fortia didn’t have much but guard duty for her men. He could work with that.

Inside, there was another. Two hundred or so men were being marched around by a sergeant. Half that amount were scrubbing plate. In the past, Guardians had lower ranks to do it for them. So they really had nothing to do. Iliyal turned to the huge structure, reinforced with steel beams on the outside in a diagonal pattern. The roof was flat, there were more guards up there. Iliyal gave the courtyard one last sweep. Six terraces had direct view. Two paths with crenulated walls carved into the stone did too. Another gatehouse was close by to create the perfect killzone. Barely noticeable, just above the parked cars, were small holes in the mountain. They led to channels. Spillways for hot oils then. “This way.” The captain called from ahead. Iliyal had not realised he had come to a stop to admire the architecture.

“It’s quite a sight.” He said and the captain chuckled as he led to the small building.

“We keep the embassy by the entrance.” Of course they would. Why should diplomats be allowed to map out their internal tunnels?

“I thank you for sparing my legs.” Iliyal replied politely. Diplomatic mission this was, and he had seen how humble Goddess Kassandora could be in diplomacy. Ultimately, winners were decided by what they got and not by how a righteous a scolding they could give. The captain did not reply, he just led Iliyal to a building that had even more guards.

Fortia must be bleeding her treasury supplying these people. Without the estates in Epa, what sort of income did she have? Just tributes? And who would tribute to Fortia at this point in time. Iliyal took a deep breath as he stepped into a narrow corridor. It was clean and it was obviously not designed for hospitality. The corridor was barely wide enough for Iliyal’s shoulders, it had obviously been made for Guardians with spears to hold. The floor had grates on either side and every few feet was a shallow step. That feature, Iliyal had seen in Guardian fortresses before, spears and boots would lodge against those steps even if the defenders were being pushed back by sheer mass. And the ceiling was a grate in itself. Even Imperial prisons were more welcoming.

But then, the corridor suddenly opened up. It became tall and it became wide. Not terribly, but wide enough for three men and with enough headroom for even Arascus to stand here. There was a huge door on either side. One of them had steel panels on the inside, the over was the first piece of artisanry Iliyal had seen. Carved oak and polished to a shine.

The guard knocked on the door. Iliyal stepped before it. He heard Fortia’s voice from inside. “Come in.” The captain opened the door and indicated for Iliyal to step through.

And step through Iliyal did. And suddenly, he was in the realm of Divines once again. The floors had yellow carpets. There was a fireplace, unlit thankfully. There was a desk of masterfully carved wood. Chairs had been prepared. No bottle though of drink though. Swords hung on the walls, along with portraits of other Guardian strongholds. Most of them lay in Imperial territory though. Iliyal declined to comment on the artwork. He just saw the two Divines, both easily twice as tall as him. One with hair of gold-bronze, the other steel-silver.

“Greetings.” Fortia said. Maisara was already waiting there. Both Goddesses had donned their armour: a cuirass over their chest and then a skirt fashioned out of scalemail. Anyone who thought it stupid had not heard of Arascus recall the wars in the age before War came about. There had not been armour powerful enough to halt a blow then. And besides, the God of Pride did not don of suit of plate either when he stepped onto the field. Nor did Neneria. Iliyal bowed.

“I am blessed. Let us make peace and let us make order.” He said and straightened. The coat came off, it was hot in Gracya even as winter was settling in. Small rooms like this made things even worse. Fortia sat down behind a desk. Maisara sat down next to her. Iliyal folded his coat, put it back on the seat and sat opposite.

“Make yourself at home Tremali.” Fortia said. “Or do you prefer Iliyal?”

“Either.” Iliyal said. Diplomacy was one thing, but he would not call her Goddess. That title was reserved for Kassandora only. “It’s a tremendous fortress you have.”

“I’m sure you’d want to see more of it.” Fortia said.

“Unfortunately time does not allow for such things.” Iliyal turned her down in the same way he turned down ancient aristocracy. Although that was from long past, before the Tremalis declared allegiance to Arascus. “But from what I seen already, I would use one word to describe it: Unassailable.”

Fortia smiled, lifted an eyebrow and turned to Maisara. The Goddess of Order shrugged back. “Well I think if anyone has an eye, it would be Kassandora’s chosen.” Fortia said. “We have heard you have something to discuss regarding the Surface War.”

So straight to it. Well, Fortia was a commander and Iliyal did not particularly care for small talk. “The proposition is simple.” Iliyal said. He began to use the diplomatic training he was taught. That of Kassandora, not of Malam. “And, if I may, I question why I am telling you it.” That took the Goddesses aback. Maisara smiled, her silver eyes shining as she looked down at Iliyal. Even sitting down, she still was taller than if he stood. Fortia put her arms on the table and leaned forwards as she listened. “There is disagreement in the Empire regarding this, but I am the Emperor’s Hand for the moment. It is my call to make and I have made it. Why have not gone to Khmet yet?”

Fortia turned to look at Maisara. Maisara turned to look at Fortia. For a moment, the two Goddesses sat in silence. Fortia made a small flick of her head, barely noticeable. Maisara came onto the scene. “And this is being proposed why?” Maisara asked as bluntly as she ever did. Iliyal was to about to reply when Fortia joined her friend.

“And do not make this an argument of morality Iliyal.”

“Is Tartarus on the side of the White Pantheon?” Iliyal asked. “We have no seen communication from your compatriots on the mountain. Even Zerus has not gone to meet them and we know his wife is jealous of her demesne.” Sceo, the Goddess of the Sky, had infamously refused to fly and support Tartarus because of their ashen skies.

“And why should I answer that?” Fortia said. “As it stands, it is you who are next to our territory.”

“You are thirty minutes flight from Arcadia. It’s less than an hour for a mage to get here.” Iliyal replied coldly as he used every fibre in his body to stare down two Goddesses. Two Goddesses that were known for their short tempers. Two Goddesses that still held public executions for criminals in their orders. Malam at least kept it a secret.

Fortia smiled and leaned back. Maisara raised an eyebrow. The Goddess of Peace spoke. “Did you just threaten us?”

“I merely stated the facts.” Iliyal said. “Your fortress is unassailable by normal means.” Obviously mages were not normal means. They were smart enough to catch that though.

“Well Iliyal.” Fortia said. “We have no plans to move onto Khmet. I do not think they want us anyway, your Empire has made quite a show in Ibya.” Iliyal was sly enough to catch what she was saying. Khmet had more people than the rest of North Arika combined. Ibya was a drop in the bucket compared to Khmet. The Empire was working at full speed already.

“I have come, then.” Iliyal laid it out in the open. “To somehow motivate you to move onto Khmet.”

“I think we are doing very well here.” Fortia said. “Thank you for your thought.”

“Why would you want us there anyway?” Maisara said. “The most that can happen is that Khmet becomes more loyal to the White Pantheon if we go there.” Iliyal threw the obvious reply away from his mind. It was an open attack on them and these two would not like it whatsoever: Should Peace & Order not go to uphold Peace & Order?

He went down a different line. “Because I am the Grand Marshal of the Epan Front and I am securing a flank.” Iliyal said. “Combined, you have more than two hundred thousand blessed men here. I want them gone from Gracya and I want them gone from Epa.” He had heard Goddess Kassandora once mention that these Divines preferred radical honesty, so he gave them some string of logic to catch on. “Because we believe that the White Pantheon is defunct as it is, and that should be obvious by the fact we don’t even strengthen the border garrisons here. Because without you, the Divine Mountain is not a threat and can be ignored and because I do not want to do diplomacy with a third actor in the middle of a war between worlds.” Iliyal actually raised his voice at them near the end. And then he finished. Sat there. And realised again who he was looking at.

But maybe it was working. Maybe this was Malam had told him to go instead of going himself. Fortia had leaned back on her seat, her hands resting on the armrests. Maisara was smiling. “That reasoning, I can accept.” Maisara said.

“That is something.” Fortia said. “You are the man they say you are.”

Iliyal bowed his head and let out a small “Thank you” in return.

“So that is how it goes.” Maisara said. “And…” She trailed off and looked to Fortia.

“If we promise that we shall not choose a side?” Fortia asked.

“I would prefer Maisara say it.” Iliyal said. That too was a move from Goddess Kassandora. Peace was fickle and Peace was all honey obscuring barbs, but Order was Order. And when Maisara said something, she would not break her word. Fortia turned to Maisara and the Goddess of Order shook her head. Another look from Fortia and a small movement of the mouth. Iliyal couldn’t catch it. Maisara did presumably.

“If this is agreed upon, then during the opening stages of the war, whatever they may, we can promise not to intervene.”

Iliyal crossed his arms. “We all know what that means. That is why I want your troops in Khmet.”

“Well, it is a proposition.” Fortia said. “But Khmet does not want us.”

“I do not see why that is problem.” Iliyal said. “They will want you once they see what is happening to Ibya.”

Maisara stepped in again. “Ibya has just announced it is part of the Empire. Khmet has not.”

“The War is for Arda.” Iliyal said.

“That’s what you.” Maisara replied.

Iliyal had to drag this conversation back to the realm of military policy where he was good. This tit-for-tat argument was going nowhere. “The only thing that matters is what Tartarus believes. Imperial propaganda is worldwide, they have just seen Ibya join the Empire like this.” Iliyal snapped his fingers. “The talks have been ongoing now, but what does that matter to demons that don’t even speak our languages? They arrive and the first thing they see is flags swapping around. If that is how fickle our nations are, then why should every nation not be just as fickle?”

Fortia and Maisara once again shared a look. They were buying it. “Why Khmet?” Fortia asked. “Why not Guguo.” Sometimes, Iliyal did not know how Malam did it, but she had a supernatural sense for these sorts of things. She had not fed Iliyal many lines but this one, she did. And once Iliyal heard it, he knew it would work. It would work on them because it would work on him.

“Because I would not embarrass you so much as to send you away from the front lines. That would be the real humiliation.”

Fortia and Maisara stared at Iliyal. Of all the places he wanted to die in, it was not here. Here was not a field of battle, nor was it grand. Nor was it with his grandson, Ilwin. It was nowhere. He stepped into the lion’s den and he had found monsters instead of lions. And now, a pair of them drilled him with their gazes. “So you say.” Fortia’s voice was ice.

“Truly a man trained by Kassandora.” Maisara said. “There exists not a single mortal who would speak to me like that and expect to walk out alive.”

“I am merely saying things as I see them. If you wish to search for trickery then go ahead but I am too old a man for games of semantics. I did not come to insult, belittle or taunt either of you.” He supposed some rapport was needed. Goddess Kassandora said that a general who could not congratulate their own men was no man fit for command. “I have great respect for both of you. I cannot match you in single combat but on the field of command, I hope to be a worthy adversary.”

Fortia turned to Maisara and Maisara to Fortia. “Can you believe him?” The Goddess of Peace asked.

“I do.”

“I know.” Fortia said and turned back. “Iliyal that is one of the grandest things anyone has ever said to me. Worthy adversary? You make yourself equal to Divines. It is madness. Tell Kassandora she has a gift for training men that none other do.”

“I will inform the Goddess.” Iliyal replied coyly and smiled. Good to see that they liked it. “But nonetheless, the question I want answered sooner than later. I am going to personally oversee the mobilization of Arcadia. If your force is here, then I will prepare for it. There is no promise you Fortia can give me that will satisfy me and I will not dare to bind Maisara in wordplay. Should I prepare for you? Or will your army move”

“Iliyal.” Fortia held up her hand. “I have one question to ask of you, because I’ve noticed it and I’m sure Maisara has too.” Maisara made no reaction. Frankly, she may have not caught it but she most likely wouldn’t care. With humans or elves, Iliyal would tell them to just ask away and not waste time, with a Divine though. Iliyal held his tongue and let Fortia speak. “You have not called either of us Goddess yet you reserve the title for Kassandora. I have heard this of you and now I see it in reality. Why?”

And now, Iliyal stared at Fortia. He had dodged the question when Kavaa asked him it. He hated when it was brought. Why? Because he did? Because all men swore to one? Because after everything was lost, Kassandora was still there? Because he was a thousand years out of date? “Because Goddess Kassandora has given me what none other have.” Iliyal began. Fortia raised a curious eyebrow and motioned for him to continue. “A man may be struck of age and die having not lived a day. Goddess Kassandora has given me a life where I live every day. She is not the first, but she is the last.”

Maisara leaned forwards. “Apologies for being slow Iliyal. But go on.” Iliyal could not believe these two were curious in him. He utterly hated it.

“My parents are long gone. My brothers and sisters are long gone. I had one son whom I failed. I have one grandson I am currently failing.” Iliyal said directly. It was not difficult. This was simply how things went and how things had turned out. “But yet I am still alive because Goddess Kassandora gives me a purpose and gives me a life. Arascus has once said all creatures are capable of a miracle. I do not believe that. Miracle-working is the field of Divines. The gift of life is the most Divine gift out there.” Iliyal stopped and stared at them. “That is why Goddess Kassandora is a Divine.” He held off on the other part: and why you are not.

Fortia sat there, smiling. She took a deep breath. “We shall decide privately amongst ourselves.” She said. “Well, we shall discuss. I have made my decision Iliyal. You are something else. If all mortals were like you, we would live in a mad world.”

“I have made my decision too.” Maisara said. “For what you said makes sense and whilst I have no need to pick sides, I do owe a debt to Arascus.”

“I am entertained.” Fortia declared. “By you Iliyal, however it will not come free.”

Of course it won’t. “What do you wish?”

“I wish for Imperial recognition that Khmet is not under the protection of the White Pantheon, but of Fortia, Goddess of Peace. That is my land.”

Iliyal sat there.

And Iliyal thought.

And Iliyal’s mind went blank.

He had thought what if they asked for support from the Empire and how much could be given, but not this. Frankly, this was a matter for Malam. Not even her. It was a matter for Arascus. He should not be making these decisions. He had just been the commander of a Legion during the Great War. A successful one at that. One that survived until now. But a General. Not a statesman. Never a statesman.

Iliyal felt the badge of a hand on poke him as he leaned back. But Arascus had made him the Emperor’s Hand.

Arascus was away right now.

So the Hand of the Emperor was the next figure in charge.

Just as if Goddess Kassandora had died, there would be no time for weeping. The hierarchy would move and readjust. Someone had to make the calls and take the shots. Someone had to be at the top to keep the whole thing running.

Iliyal made the call. “Khmet is yours.”